January 6, 2020: Wild Pack of Family Dogs
Song: “Wild Pack of Family Dogs” by Modest Mouse from The Moon and Antarctica
(from apkgk.com)
They sat together on the hill. Jacob and the Doctor. Jacob had called her the Doctor or Doc for so long he had no idea what her name was. First or last. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure if she was a Doctor. That thought choked him up even further. Six years in one place, she was the only one who had stayed for his whole time, and he couldn’t remember her name.
He remembered Miguel, the line staff who always worked for six months about two years ago. Remembered all the promises Miguel made about the Six Flags and the trampoline place and ice cream Fridays and how he kept none of them.
He remembered Carli the overnight staff who wore her pajamas on shift and smelled like green apple Now ‘n Later. She called him Big Man in a way that made him flush and feel guilty all at once. He remembered catching her sleeping one night, the way he could see her stomach where her shirt had pulled up. How he had carelessly mentioned it to another staff. How she never came back after that. Sleeping on the job, after all, gets you fired.
He could remember so many of them. And yet the Doctor, who he had once kicked in the stomach and another time smashed a framed picture of her with a man he later learned was her dead father, the one person who had never left…he couldn’t remember her name at all.
If he had tears left, he would have cried. For the six years. For all the people who flitted in and out of his life. For the Doctor, who improbably sat down next to him even though he never once let her be a person in his mind.
The Doctor sat in the silence. Six years ago… hell, two years ago, she would have rushed to fill the space. She had learned. Jacob had taught her. She tried to conjure the image of his at 10, the first time they met. She thought she had but realized it was another client. One from back then but who had moved on to a different program years ago. Derek? Devin? A D name for sure.
“He’s gone,” Jaco finally croaked. A statement but half a hopeful question. Part of him still hoping he misunderstood.
“Well…” The Doctor started, “I suppose it depends on what you mean. On what you believe.”
Six years later had not made her more comfortable with death or with touching on anything vaguely religiously adjacent.
“I mean dead. He’s dead.”
She nodded even though Jacob wasn’t looking at her. “Yes,” she added, “Yes he is.”
The direct confirmation made him gasp and grunt, forcing a sob back deep inside him. After a life in care, it was basically a reflex now.
“Your dad…he died right?” Jacob asked, still not looking at her. He knew the answer, he remembered how her face crushed inward when he tossed the broken frame across. He remembered it was the only time she ever yelled at him, a roar that terrified him. She wouldn’t see him for weeks afterwards and when they finally met again she apologized and admitted she thought she might hurt him if she started working with him again too soon.
“Yes. When I was a younger than you.”
“What did you think happened after?”
“No one really knows. It is one of those big questions that there may be a right answer to but none of us can ever trul—”
Jacob rolled his eyes, “I know. I mean, then, what did you think happened. Just you. Not what others think or what others said or whatever.”
She paused then offered, “I’m not really…comfortable sharing things like that. It’s not really appropriate.”
He sagged, “Oh. Right. Yeah. I guess I knew that. Sorry.”
As the sun dragged itself slowly down the horizon, she ached for him. If she hadn’t known that her letter of resignation was already sitting in Director Andersen’s inbox, perhaps she would have just borne the ache. But she knew in three weeks’ time she would be moving six states away to a new house, a new job, and to finally start planning her wedding. So she thought, just this once. Just this once I can empty myself for a client.
“So,” she began, haltingly, “when I was growing up…I sort of…sort of had a situation like yours.”
Jacob looked at her for the first time, eyebrows arcing.
“My mom disappeared when I was maybe four. I assume she had issues of her own. I mean, obviously, but I don’t know what. My dad always said he didn’t either.”
As far as the Doctor knew, her mom was still out there. Donna once suggested they look for her and it made the Doctor so mad she slept on the couch for a week. Donna never brought the mom up again.
“Anyway, it was just dad and I for years. Then one day we got in a big car accident. I ended up fine but dad got pretty messed up. He was an only child and my grandparents, his parents, were gone before I was born. So while he recovered the state put me in a home, like this one. Sort of. Not as nice. But I guess I would say that, right?”
She smiled at Jacob but it never reached his eyes. He knew that smile. And so he knew what kind of “not as nice” home she meant. He’d been in a few of those too.
“But my dad kinda never really recovered. He tried. He did. But between the pain and the pain killers, everyday was hard. Every. Day. So I kept going to group homes and foster families and then he’d get his act together and I’d come back. Over and over.
“The one thing that always stayed consistent was the dogs. Dad had a thing about dogs. He loved them. And they loved him. He lived in a pretty small town, lots of transient types. So they’d leave their dogs behind when they moved. And the dogs would eventually find dad. The house was too small for them to live inside, but dad was crafty and there was a pretty good amount of unclaimed land around us so he’d build them these houses. Insulated. Capable of being heated if need be although it rarely got cold enough where we lived for that. So he’d feed them every day, tuck them in at night, and just make sure they were treated well.
“We were never wealthy though so the one thing he never could do for them was get them surgeries or treatment if they got really sick. So he drove a lot of them to the vet the next town over, cried as they got put to sleep, and then drove them home and buried them in our yard or up in the trees. Which was probably pretty illegal now that I think about it.”
Jacob interrupted her, “Weren’t you pissed he could take care of those dogs but not you?”
“I…maybe. At first. But I got to understanding it pretty quickly. He couldn’t care for me, not long-term, but he could manage them. It was like contrition. He couldn’t be a good dad so he did what he could for other creatures that needed help.”
Jacob nodded but he honestly didn’t understand. People were more important than dogs. How did helping them at all excuse not being there for your kid.
“So, eventually, I finally got paired with a good foster family. Two parents, two kids, a girl and a boy. The daughter was older than me, the brother just a little younger. They had an extra bedroom for me. The girl, my sister, she had this boyfriend, I remember. Super serious guy but so kind. He used to bring me something almost every time I saw him. A poster for my wall or a lamp or whatever. I guess his parents were divorced and when he visited with one of them, he slept in a bedroom that didn’t have anything on the walls. He hated the idea of me being in a nice big house in a room that was mine but wasn’t.
“After a year, this family, my family, decided they wanted to adopt me. But dad had to say it was ok. And he couldn’t. He just…couldn’t. But he knew it was wrong. He came to visit me and had dinner with them and me and he voice wavered and his eyes filled with tears. It was as perfect as anything could be for a 13-year-old girl who hadn’t lived anywhere for more than a few months since she was seven. But I was his daughter and he couldn’t bring himself to do it.”
“Fuck,” Jacob spat.
“Language,” she replied, winking at him.
“Fudge?” he offered, shrugging.
“Better.”
“Did you have to leave?”
“No. Three days later my dad was found dead, out by the mailbox. Without a dad and no other known living relatives, there was no one else who had standing. My family, they adopted me as quickly as possible.”
“That’s when he died?”
“Yeah. They said it was an accidental overdose of pain killers. I think they lied so I could get the little bit of life insurance he had. I’m pretty sure he killed himself. He couldn’t let me go but he knew he had to so he just…took himself out of things.”
“In church, for the funeral, the priest told the story of Elijah being plucked off Earth and directly to Heaven. I had never really gone to church, not any one’s I had paid attention to anyway but I was listening that day. And that story…I started to imagine it was what happened to dad. That all his dogs, the ones he cared for but couldn’t save, them came down and they…snapped his soul right up out of his body. Then they carried him off to Heaven where he had a home big enough for them and he always felt good enough to take them for nice long walks and roughhouse with them. So that’s what I imagined. My dad carried up to the afterlife by his dog pack.”
“Do you still believe that?”
She bit her tongue and gulped. Oh well…in for a penny, in for a pound. “No,” she admitted, “I don’t…I don’t believe in anything anymore I guess.”
Silence filled in around them, seemingly pushing the sunlight further away and down.
“Can I?” he whispered.
“What?”
“I think…I know my dad liked dogs too. He was never as good as you said your dad was. He…well you know what he did. But I know he liked dogs. So can I…do you mind if I believe that? That he went to heaven, pulled along by some dogs?”
“Jacob…”
“Please, I’d just borrow it. Until you can believe in it again.”
She realized she couldn’t say a word. Not without breaking open and letting out the storm she held in, day after day. So instead she nodded. A quick broken smile nod.
“Thanks,” he replied, somehow even quieter.
Then they sat and watched. The sun disappearing. The darkness easing in, the moonlight draping everything in shimmer and silver. They both heard a dog barking in the distance but neither said a thing. They just sat and felt it, another crack forming on their patchwork hearts.